Mr. President

I had a dream the other night. Desperate in my love for Anna, despairing in my desire to see her, I put on a mask of Abraham Lincoln and walked into a bank. The teller, much amazed, said, “Oh, Mr. President, what do you want? I said, “Loan me half a mill.” He quickly did so, and out I walked to the airplane factory and bought a plane, cash down. Then off I flew to L.A. A little outside the city I spied a bright yellow flag flying in the wind and so I zoomed down closer at about 100 feet. And there she was, the late afternoon sun turning to pure gold upon her face, snipping buttercups in her garden. I swooped back up to 500 feet then parachuted down, letting my plane fly out to sea.

When I landed in Anna’s back yard she gasped, not knowing it was me, and turned and grabbed a pitchfork.
I quickly exclaimed, “My adorable! My sweet! My darling! The wonder of my world!” She stopped and said, as if to herself, “I know these words, but not this voice. Who could it be?’ I then said, “Anna, it is me! Your facebook lover!” She then came running, and leaped into my arms (remembering to drop the pitchfork just in time!)and cried, “Oh, Harry, it’s so wonderful to meet you!” I blurted out, “Who’s Harry?” She cried, “Oh Thomas, I’m so sorry I forgot your name!” I said, “And who is Thomas? How many facebook lovers have you got?”

She then said, very quietly, looking up at me with her sweet, innocent, dark eyes, “Oh Brad, don’t you think my sense of humor is improving?”

And I was the happiest ex-President on the face of the earth!

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